


Explosion

by PlasticMachine



Series: Whumptober2019 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Explosions, M/M, Whump, Whumptober, no sburb session, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 19:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasticMachine/pseuds/PlasticMachine
Summary: Dave's building is quarantined by the police, but his fiance is still inside.





	Explosion

A large white flash.

A orange burst of flames.

Charring heat. 

Glass shattering. 

Steal beams melting.

Stone, concrete, falling to the ground. 

Dust poring down like snow.

Ashes trickling down like rain. 

There was no hope of any survivors in that explosion. 

Watching from behind the police tape, Dave's ears were still ringing as he stared at the remains of the building. 

After the dust cleared, he saw nothing but rubble.

His home was completely gone. The apartment that he shared with his fiance was nothing but a pile of rubble and scattered ash.

Plastic bags ruffling in Dave's hands as he pulled out his cell from his back pocket.

Dave placed a call to his lover, desperately trying to reach John. 

Nothing was going through. It went straight to voice mail.

Dave was frantic. Dave called again. Nothing.

He went just out to buy things for their new home for a few hours and he came home to police telling him that the entire building was being held hostage by some lunatic. 

Dave called again. The call was cut short. Like John's phone wasn't on at all.

Dave started screaming, soot filling his lungs.

He wasn't alone. The crowd behind the tape were all screaming. Shrieking the cry of people who've already lost.

Dave didn't lose John, he can't lose John. John is his entire life.

Dave called again. Nothing.

Dave called again. John didn't pick up.

Dave kicked his shoe into the cement, he called again. Nothing.

Dave called again. No one picked up.

Dave called John's phone again as he grit his teeth.

Trying and failing. Over and over again. Each time more and more anger bubbled up from his gut and into the tunnels of his veins. His blood heating, his head aching. He still couldn't bring himself to give in.

He kept calling. He kept failing.

A woman next to him fell to the ground, sobbing into her hands as she curled up into her knees.

The crowed around Dave watching in horror at the spectacle of loss.

Dave continued calling. He didn't give in until suddenly he couldn't call any longer.

His phone had just died in the middle of John's voicemail recording.

Dave wonders to himself if that will be the last time that he ever heard his lover's voice.

Dave didn't move the phone from his ear.

He couldn't bring himself to move.

He lost the only thing that gave him purpose in life anymore.

The only thing that gave him structure.

The only thing that brought him joy.

Now he is just...

Nothing.

Less than alone.

Dave is nothing.

Dave blankly stared ahead at the rubble. Dust still clouding the ground like it was nothing but simple city smog. 

The people on the street, surrounding Dave were sobbing, coughing, wheezing. 

Dave couldn't bring himself to even breathe anymore.

Dave just continued to stare at the rubble like it was his loved one's grave.

It **was **John's grave.

Dave felt a throbbing ache in his throat. 

**"What happened?!" **

Dave turned his head. Slowly lowering his arm and his phone.

He sees the clouded figure of a man staring directly at him.

Even with the dust obscuring him...

Dave knew who it was.

There was purpose in his life. The were tears in his eyes. 

Dave dropped his phone to the ground, swinging the bags in his arms as he ran up to the voice he heard.

Tightly wrapping his arms around the obscured figure.

And suddenly... Dave wasn't alone. 


End file.
